


Etched On Your Skin

by FluffyBeaumont



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Anal Sex, Drunken Kissing, Finger Sucking, First Kiss, First Time, Flash Fic, Friends to Lovers, Impression, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:49:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26039737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FluffyBeaumont/pseuds/FluffyBeaumont
Summary: Sam Tyler was never comfortable in Gene Hunt's world and he wants to go home, back to the life he had before...until one kiss opens his eyes to what waits for him here, on the other side of where he's never been.
Relationships: Gene Hunt/Sam Tyler
Comments: 2
Kudos: 32





	Etched On Your Skin

**Author's Note:**

> The title is taken from James Blunt's wonderful song "1973."

Late nights chasing after various flavours of armed bastards has taken its toll. Sam just wants to go back to his poky flat and fall into his bed, lose himself in sleep, forget. It's been that sort of a day, chasing down leads that never pan out in the middle of a heat wave that's got the city blanketed in humidity so thick it feels like you could eat it. No air conditioning; it's entirely the wrong era for that. And so he chases Gene around the streets, clothes sticking to his body, resentment sticking to his soul until he's ready to pound the living daylights out of something or somebody, until he's ready to cast caution to the wind, do something he's never done before, forget himself, abandon common sense. He's no longer in the twenty-first century: it's 1973 and the normal rules no longer apply.

By eight that evening the last remnants of a local drug trafficking gang have been locked safely into their cells and Gene is gathering up his coat and taking up his car keys. He looks tired. They all look tired. It's been a hell of a day. But, rather than giving in to his exhaustion, Sam feels curiously enervated, alive, _dangerous._ He feels the subtle knife edge of danger skating along the ragged edge of his soul, and he likes the pain it makes. He wants to do something he's never done before, take risks. "All ready, guv?" he asks, as Gene joins him in the corridor and they walk to the elevator together.

"What's up your nose?" His guv'nor asks, smirking. Maybe the heat has gotten to him as well. Maybe he feels it as much as Sam does.

"Dunno." Sam punches the elevator button. They're the only ones left over from the day shift. The others have all gone. It's just him and Gene, alone together. "Don't feel like going home just yet."

"Can't say I blame you," Gene replies, as the elevator arrives, doors sliding open. They slot themselves inside, silent together as the metal panels glide across, sealing them into the little box. "That tip you live in."

"Fancy a pint in the pub?" Sam asks, careful to sound nonchalant. He doesn't want to give the game away, but neither is he fooling himself as to what he feels for Gene Hunt - not now, not anymore. Those days are long gone. When he first landed here he despised Gene as much as it was possible to despise another human being, but in the interim his feelings for his guv have changed. He fancies him - Christ, does he ever - and he respects him. Yes, it's true.

He even loves him. There, he's admitted it. And he wants Gene Hunt in his life and in his bed and right this minute he intends to take him to the pub and get him so absolutely legless that seducing him will be like child's play.

Gene deserves it. He deserves to be fucked by someone who loves him, or to fuck someone who loves him, someone who means it, someone entirely invested in his pleasure. It's time he shows his guv how much Gene means to him.

The pub they choose isn't their local, or anything even close to it. It's a dance club, a dark little hole in the wall, a cloistered space so dimly lit they can barely see each other but Sam doesn't give a flying fuck. He doesn't need to see Gene to know how beautiful he is, or to understand how much he wants him. He and Gene station themselves in front of the bar and they shoot tequila until Sam can hardly see, and they pretend to carry on a conversation, faces close together, intimate, so he can watch Gene's beautiful mouth shaping the syllables and it doesn't matter what he's saying, because Sam can't stop looking at him. The air inside the club is dry and Sam wets his lips with the tip of his tongue and he sees Gene's gaze following this simple gesture. Sam bites his own lower lip and throws back another shot of tequila, chasing it with salt and lemon, tasting the tartness and the saline on his mouth. "All right, guv?"

Gene swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing, and Sam can't help himself. He swoops in, capturing Gene's mouth with his and for a blissful instant he cherishes the heat and moisture, the momentary flicker of Gene's tongue, tasting him, before he pulls away. He must be careful. This isn't his world. Such behaviour here is frowned upon, could most definitely be dangerous, could get them into trouble, arrested, beaten and left for dead in the streets.

Gene's smile is luminous in the darkness, beautiful. There are dimples in his cheeks. "You ready to get out of here, Gladys?" he asks, making use of that old nickname. It's a gentle mockery, meaning nothing. He knows Gene well enough not to get offended by anything he says.

"Yeah." Sam takes another dangerous chance, swaying towards him, laying the palm of his hand flat against the other man's chest, feeling the measure of his heartbeat. "I think you should take me home now."

"Come on, then." And Gene's hand is burning heat into his lower back as he ushers him out the door and into a cab, and they sit so close their legs are touching from hip to knee and they don't dare speak, because this is too tangible and real, too poignant and painful and gorgeous. Now and then they turn to gaze at one another, and Gene's blue eyes are huge in the cab's dim interior, and his wide mouth is flattened into a line and Sam is terrified, terrified he's made a mistake.

"It's all right, Gladys." Gene grins at him. "It's all right."

 _We're really doing this,_ Sam thinks, and a great bubble of happiness swells and bursts inside him. They sit close together, grinning at each other like fools, and when the taxi pulls up in front of Sam's flat they tumble out, in a hurry to pay the fare, tipping the driver more than is usual but who gives a damn? Who really gives a damn?

From the door to Sam's bed takes a handful of moments. They stop and gaze steadily at each other, and Gene's eyes drop to Sam's half-opened mouth, fragrant with tequila as he asks hoarsely, "All right there?"

"Yeah." Beyond that, Sam can't speak. The time for language has passed. _No more words,_ he thinks, as he wrests Gene's coat from his shoulders, tossing it away. _No more words now. Just hands and mouths._ Hands and mouths and the taste of Gene against his tongue, the slight tang of sweat on his skin and the warm breeze coming through the window and the lateness of the hour. He opens his mouth wide, inviting Gene to kiss him and he does, claiming Sam's mouth almost violently, devouring him. Somehow he has Sam stripped and under him in no time at all and Sam keens aloud as Gene maps his body with his mouth, leaving a burning trail of kisses everywhere, lingering nowhere. He takes Sam's fingers into his mouth one by one, sucking, the tip of his tongue flickering around the tip, cheeks hollow in the moonlight, extravagant dark lashes fanned against his cheeks. He is _so beautiful_ and the nearness of him and the pleasure he is giving makes Sam weep. Gene is drawing him into a well of ecstasy so deep he will never escape, touching him intimately in places he has never been touched before, entering him, smoothing the tight ring of muscle at his entrance with some slick substance that smells like cinnamon and acts on his senses like an opiate.

"Sam." Gene is lying on top of him, pinning him to the bed with his weight, and Sam allows himself to spread open for Gene, legs parting to accommodate him. This is serious. This is as serious as a heart attack and Sam is actually sobbing as Gene slides one lubricated finger deep inside of him. "Tell me if this isn't what you want, eh?" His furrowed brow makes him look worried, and the corners of his mouth are flattened now, downturned, and he is concentrating with everything he has not to hurt Sam. "You'll tell me, right?"

Sam draws his legs up, spreading himself open for Gene, inviting him to enter. "Fuck me," he whispers, drawing Gene down to kiss him. "I want you to fuck me."

"I don't want to hurt you." His guv'nor holds himself up on his arms, and he's gazing down at Sam and there is just enough ambient light in the room, so Sam can make out his features, his mouth and his beautiful blue eyes. "Jesus, Sam, I'd never hurt you."

Sam groans as he feels the press of Gene's hard cock at his entrance, and his thighs quiver as Gene pushes in slowly, breaching that taut space, claiming him. He tilts his hips up, so that Gene's cock is seated inside of him completely and then he begins to move, rocking his hips, drawing his beloved deeper into him so that they form a single joined entity.

It's sexy and sticky and violently erotic, and Gene is hitting some hidden spot inside of Sam that makes him writhe and groan, drawing him closer and closer to the edge of a precipice that he can sense is looming nearer. "I love you," Sam murmurs, as Gene thrusts into him, making Sam his own. "I love you," he says again, "and I'll never leave you. I never will. I never will."

The world stops the moment his orgasm overtakes him and he arches his back, spending himself as a jagged pulse of pleasure drags him along a knife-edge, slicing him wide open. He cries out, not caring who hears him as the warm waves of his completion wash over him and over him, obliterating everything.

And Gene is coming hard, spilling himself inside of him, his face contorted with his release, and it's the most beautiful thing Sam has ever seen. He catches Gene's face between his palms and holds his head as his desire peaks and spends itself, and then he is drifting down to rest, his face in the crook of Sam's shoulder, his breath coming hard in his chest.

They are silent together in the dark, and Sam clasps his hand against the back of Gene's head, holding him. He kisses the side of Gene's face, and his forehead, and the hollow of his throat, but there are no words profound enough to express what they have experienced here tonight. "Tell me," Sam says, after a long space of time has passed, and they are each teetering on the edge of sleep. "Tell me the truth."

Gene is diffident, bashful, tongue-tied. He kisses Sam, a long, deep caress that brings his arousal to the surface, his sated cock swelling painfully, eager again for intimate congress. "I love you." It's a barely audible whisper. "I love you, Sam. That's all. I'm a simple man. I can't think of anything else to say."

They fall asleep, clasped in each other's arms, and if Sam is holding Gene's beautiful face, no one is crass enough to mention it. There's plenty of time for that in the cold light of day.


End file.
